BTW I Love You Page 8

  ‘Is it, really?’ Rye didn’t even have the decency to blush.

  ‘If you want to talk to your young lady,’ she added, ‘you should do it elsewhere.’

  ‘I’m not his young …’ Maddy yelped as Rye’s fingers wrapped firmly round her upper arm.

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ he said as he shoved the door open with one arm and hauled Maddy through with the other. ‘I’ll take my young lady somewhere more private.’

  ‘Let go of me,’ she spat, struggling against his grip as he set off down the corridor, those long fingers tightening on her arm like a vice.

  His uneven stride did nothing to slow the pace as he marched her, none too gently, into Phil’s office and slammed the door.

  ‘Now, let’s have it,’ he said, his voice low as her back butted the carved pine. He propped one hand above her head, caging her in. ‘I want to know what made you react like that.’

  Outrage blinded her. ‘How dare you haul me about like that!’ She slapped her palms against his chest, pushed hard. He didn’t budge. ‘And I’m never sleeping with …’

  His lips came down. Hard, fast, insistent. And the protest got stuck in her throat. Right alongside the resistance.

  She gasped. Strong fingers angled her head to deepen the kiss and molten heat shot up from her core. Her hands flexed in the soft cotton of his T-shirt as the sure strokes spread the wildfire.

  Her breath gushed out as he lifted his head, moisture flooding between her thighs but doing nothing to put out the fire. One large palm settled on her hip, steadying her.

  ‘Never say never, Maddy. Not to me. Not when you don’t mean it.’

  ‘But I do mean it,’ she stammered, but the denial sounded false, even to her.

  The rough, callused pad of his thumb touched her cheekbone. She could hear the thunder of her own heartbeat, feel her pulse pummelling her neck as he traced the line of her jaw, pressed the flutter in her throat. ‘No you don’t,’ he murmured.

  She looked away, feeling the outline of his arousal against her belly. Her sex ached and tightened, ready to receive him. She realised vaguely she wasn’t revolted by him. Her boss. But hideously turned on.

  Shame mingled with longing, the unstoppable rush of response a betrayal. Of that little girl who had sworn to despise all the women in her father’s life—so she wouldn’t have to despise him.

  ‘What happened? Tell me,’ he coaxed.

  ‘I have ethics, that’s all,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think it’s right.’ She couldn’t tell him. It would leave her vulnerable. Like that frightened child with the evidence of something she’d tried so hard to deny branded on her memory for ever.

  ‘That wasn’t ethics.’ He lifted her face. ‘I’d say it was more like a phobia. You were physically sick.’

  Tears clogged her throat at the concern in his voice.

  ‘I wasn’t sick. It wasn’t that bad. I’m just tired and I hadn’t had breakfast and …’ Her pathetic attempt to explain away what he had seen trailed into silence as he continued to study her, knowledge and understanding in his steely gaze. ‘Can’t you just forget it?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I can’t.’ He huffed out a laugh. ‘I don’t want to fire you, but I will, if that’s the only way I can make love to you again without you throwing up all over me.’

  She heard the wry amusement in his tone—and the note of arrogance.

  ‘Who said we were going to make love again? When did I agree to that? Or don’t I get a say?’ The adamant statement sounded fairly ridiculous after the kiss they’d shared. But she didn’t care.

  He sent her a sceptical look. ‘How about we manage one problem at a time here?’

  ‘Excuse me, my choice of sexual partners is not a prob …’

  ‘Why can’t you talk about it?’ he interrupted. ‘Was it that bad?’ The tender tone cut the lecture off in mid-flow.

  She sighed. ‘No, it wasn’t bad. Just embarrassing.’ Maybe reason would deflect him. ‘Honestly, Rye. It’s not that big a deal. It’s silly.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘Oh, for …’ She bit back the curse. He looked more stubborn than ever.

  She stared over Rye’s shoulder at the wide surf-battered beach through Phil’s office window—and felt cornered. It seemed the more she held out, the more tenacious he became. Maybe if she got it over with he’d lose interest and let her be.

  ‘All right. But, I warn you, it’s an incredibly boring story.’ She took a shuddering breath.

  Tell him quickly, with as little emotion as possible.

  ‘When I was thirteen, I went to see my dad at his office. It was his birthday and I’d brought him a present. My mother had kicked him out of the house. Again. Two days before. So he was staying at a hotel. Anyway …’ She fumbled to a halt.

  Stop reciting your life story. He’s not that interested.

  ‘I wanted to surprise him and I walked in on him boffing his secretary.’ She let out a breath. ‘See, no big deal. It’s ridiculous that I’ve always let it bother me so much. You’re right. Talking about it made it much better, so thanks.’

  She twisted, reached for the door handle. But his hand covered hers before she could escape. She went still, stared blindly as his palm wrapped around the back of her hand and squeezed. Her heart stuttered. And tears clogged her throat. Tears she couldn’t shed.

  Please don’t say anything.

  ‘That must have been one hell of a shock,’ he said.

  She blinked, the idiotic tears prickling. ‘Not really.’ Or it shouldn’t have been. ‘I already knew he couldn’t be faithful. They argued about “his sluts”, as my mother liked to call them, all the time.’

  ‘Did you tell your mother?’ he asked gently.

  Maddy gave her head a swift shake and a lone tear slipped over her lid. ‘God, no.’ She brushed it away, hoping he hadn’t seen it.

  ‘What about your father? How did he react?’

  ‘He shouted at me to wait outside.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘The poor secretary went crimson. I think she was a lot more horrified by my presence than he was.’ Maddy trembled, remembering the hideousness of listening to the muffled sounds through the closed door, her hands shaking as she threw the carefully wrapped present in the bin. ‘When he came out ten minutes later he was charming. Condescending.’ Was that the first time she had noticed how condescending? ‘He told me he had needs that my mother had never been able to satisfy. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love her.’

  It still disgusted her, she realised, the memory of his chiselled features, flushed and satisfied. The musty scent of sex and sweat that clung to his linen suit as he hugged her and told her lies. ‘He took me out for lunch to our favourite restaurant.’

  And chose not to notice she couldn’t eat a thing.

  ‘Then he took me home. He persuaded my mother to take him back a week later, with a little extra help from a luxury trip to Paris. And it was never mentioned again.’

  Rye’s hand stroked down her hair, settled on her nape. ‘Maddy, look at me.’

  She turned to see sympathy and annoyance in his eyes. ‘So you never spoke to anyone about it?’

  ‘I spoke to Cal. Years later.’

  His brow creased. ‘Who’s Cal?’

  A weak smile tilted her lips. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was jealous. ‘My brother. He’s a barrister.’

  The crease disappeared. ‘So what did Cal say?’

  ‘To get over it and move on.’ If only she could have.

  ‘But you couldn’t,’ he said with a perceptiveness that stunned her. ‘So you made up your rule. About never sleeping with your boss.’

  ‘It seemed like the best way to handle it.’ Although the whole idea sounded hopelessly immature now. She blew out a breath, her body relaxing against the door. ‘I can’t believe I told you all that,’ she murmured. Or how easy it had been. ‘You must think I’m nuts, to let something that happened so long ago upset me.’

  He brushed he
r hair back, framing her face. ‘Are you still feeling sick?’

  She curled her lip under her teeth and slowly shook her head, amazed. The memory that had tormented her for so long seemed pathetic now, rather than nauseating.

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ He lowered his head, brushed a kiss over her lips. The dart of fire arrowed down. ‘Because I don’t want you to start gagging again.’

  She huffed out a laugh at the audacious statement, dizzy with relief. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting we have sex?’ The words came out in a breathless rush as his hand swept under her T-shirt.

  ‘Not at all.’ He angled her head, nibbled kisses along her jaw. ‘This isn’t sex. It’s immersion therapy.’

  ‘Immersion..?’ She gasped as he released her bra and cradled the swollen flesh of her breast in one hot palm.

  ‘I want to be inside you, Maddy,’ he said, toying with the sensitive peak.

  Her thigh muscles tensed, the delicious buzz fading at the bold statement—and the memory of the first time he’d been inside her.

  ‘I don’t think that will work,’ she mumbled, pulling away from him and smoothing down the T-shirt.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked, resting his hands on her hips.

  ‘It’s just …’ She paused, heat pumping into her cheeks.

  Talk about awkward.

  ‘You’re a bit too …’ She glanced down at the telltale ridge in his trousers, which looked even more daunting than before. She chewed on her lip. ‘We could do something else,’ she ventured hopefully. But she didn’t have a clue what to offer.

  Given that he was about to burst out of his pants, Rye didn’t know whether to laugh at Maddy’s artless offer or howl with frustration. ‘Damn. Was I that much of a clod?’

  ‘It’s not that,’ she said, rushing the words as the pink flags in her cheeks got pinker. ‘It’s not your fault.’

  A strange pang squeezed his chest as he realised she was trying to spare his feelings. The irony struck him first. Women had thrown themselves at him ever since he was sixteen. And he’d never had a single complaint. Apart from that one time with Marta.

  Until now.

  ‘It’s a matter of biology,’ she continued. ‘And … um … anatomy,’ she stuttered, so red now she was practically glowing. ‘We just don’t …’ She trailed off, flicking another wary glance at his crotch. ‘Fit. Very well.’

  He gave a humourless laugh. A little stunned by the evidence of how inexperienced she was. He’d liked her innocence yesterday, because it had made him feel superior and helped to repair his battered ego. He didn’t feel so good about it now.

  Had he seriously accused her of sleeping with Phil? He’d be astonished if she’d slept with more than a couple of guys in her whole life. That they hadn’t delivered in the sack went without saying—or why would she be so clueless about sex?

  He wondered if the childhood trauma she’d described had anything to do with her inexperience, then dismissed the thought. No need to go there.

  He’d got her to talk about the incident to remove any barriers to them sleeping together again. The swell of anger and empathy when she’d recounted her father’s sickening behaviour wasn’t significant. He didn’t want to think about that traumatised little girl or feel bad for her.

  ‘Maddy.’ He settled his hand on her nape, felt the punch of her pulse beneath his thumb and tried to come up with a way to explain the situation without sounding condescending. ‘I’m not a small guy; I know that. But, believe me, we’ll fit together fine.’

  ‘How do you …?’

  He pressed his finger to her lips, silencing her. ‘I was rough. I didn’t give you time to adjust. That’s why it was so uncomfortable.’ He dropped his hand, her widening eyes crucifying him.

  ‘But I don’t …’ she began.

  ‘I’ll be careful this time.’

  ‘But what if …’

  ‘Maddy—’ he cut her off, skimming soft flesh as his hand cruised under her T-shirt ‘—I can do better, I swear.’ He pulled her flush against him, cradling the painful bulge in his jeans against her stomach and touched his lips to her forehead. ‘Will you trust me?’

  He almost added that he knew what he was doing, but stopped himself. Seeing her hesitate, seeing the wary confusion in her eyes, he wasn’t so sure he did know what he was doing. When had he ever wanted a woman with this much intensity?

  He forced the thought away.

  She was sweet, sexy and vulnerable in a way he’d never encountered before. But the urgency, the driving need to have her again was only because, for the first time in a long time, he had something to prove.

  Maddy flattened her palms against Rye’s chest, felt the rapid ticks of his heartbeat matching her own and couldn’t bring herself to say no.

  No man had ever looked at her with such need before. As if they’d die from wanting her. She could see the tension in his jaw, the way his pupils had dilated to turn the vivid blue black with desire, and feel the outline of the disturbingly large erection.

  ‘All right, if you’re sure it’ll be okay?’

  He chuckled, the deep throaty sound sending a ripple of awareness down her spine. ‘It’ll be more than okay.’

  His hands moved lower—but, when he flipped open the button on her jeans, she grabbed his wrist. ‘Wait. We can’t do it here. In Phil’s office? In broad daylight?’

  He smiled. ‘Sure we can.’

  ‘But …’ Before the objection could take shape, he silenced the protest, covering her lips with his. Her head bumped against the door, the slight click of the lock echoing like a mission bell.

  His tongue probed, seeking, learning the contours of her mouth. Then he caught her bottom lip between his teeth. The tiny nip stung as he smiled at her.

  ‘No one can see in unless they have binoculars. And Phil’s not going to disturb us if he wants to keep his job.’

  He bent to drag off her jeans and knickers, not waiting for a reply.

  She stepped out of the garments in a daze of longing, the giddy rush of forbidden pleasure exciting her even more. When had she ever done anything so impulsive?

  But, as he led her to the sofa, his hand clasped around hers, she felt her unfettered breasts sway under the unhooked bra, felt the hem of her T-shirt brush her naked thighs and the rush of air against her exposed sex—and stopped.

  He looked over his shoulder, his eyebrow lifting a fraction.

  ‘Why am I practically naked and you’re fully clothed?’ she said.

  His grin widened as he nodded. ‘Let’s remedy the situation.’ Crossing his arms, he grasped the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it over his head.

  She stared at the play of muscles across his lean belly, then feasted on the sight of his beautifully sculpted chest. Wisps of hair grew around flat nipples, then tapered to a point that disappeared beneath his jeans.

  Her tongue flicked out to moisten parched lips as he kicked off his loafers, untied his belt with practised efficiency and then propped himself on the arm of the sofa to strip off his jeans and boxer shorts. The mammoth erection sprung out from the nest of dark hair at his groin and she gaped.

  She’d hoped he wouldn’t be as big. No such luck.

  She heard the rough chuckle and looked up into hungry, heavy-lidded eyes glittering with amusement. ‘Stop worrying,’ he murmured as he took her hand, tugged her towards him.

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ she replied as the ridge of flesh touched her belly like a hot iron, sending shockwaves eddying to her core.

  He laughed, the sound rich and full. ‘Let’s get you naked so we can get to the good bit.’

  Her T-shirt and bra followed his clothes to the floor, leaving her quivering with a heady combination of anticipation and dread.

  ‘There now, isn’t that better?’ he said, the teasing glint still very much in evidence as one callused palm cupped her breast.

  She sighed as he played with the rigid peak, ignoring the evidence of his arousal, still hot against her hip.

&
nbsp; Then he dipped his head and circled the raw nerves with his tongue. She moaned, her fingers sinking into the soft waves of his hair as she luxuriated in the rough strokes of his tongue. Fire spiralled down, releasing slick juices as she trembled. Maybe a little discomfort was a small price to pay for this.

  He lifted his head and she sucked in an unsteady breath as cooler air brushed her wet, fevered skin. Gripping her shoulders with firm hands, he turned her round until she felt the hot flesh butt against her bottom. He edged her forward, bending her over the sofa.

  She quaked as the brutal erection touched the swollen folds of her sex. Feeling too exposed, too vulnerable, she tried to rise.

  ‘Shh, it’s okay,’ he whispered, his hands stroking her back, cradling her buttocks as he gentled her. ‘I can control the penetration better in this position.’ Then he drew his fingers through the curls at her centre, finding the hard nub. A strangled cry escaped as her body arched against the exquisite torture.

  His fingers continued to play, building the waves of ecstasy as she listened to the muffled sounds of him sheathing himself. She started, pulled out of the reverie as the head of his penis probed.

  She groaned, the guttural sound a plea as he sank into her in one long, slow, relentless thrust. She panted, ecstasy receding to be replaced by a fullness, a stretched feeling more than she could bear. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, to tell him it was too much.

  But the protest died in her throat as his knowing fingers caressed her again. He touched, stroked, teased, holding still inside her, until the shocking pleasure made her buck, lodging him to the hilt.

  She sobbed as he began to move. The short careful thrusts, getting longer, harder, more demanding as the sure, relentless swell of pleasure built. She cried out as the waves of ecstasy rushed up and rolled over her, then receded, only to build again without pause, without reason. He grasped her hips, establishing a relentless rhythm.

  She soared upwards, the wave swelling and crashing like a tsunami now, tumbling her over and thundering down to hurl her into oblivion in one mindless rush of pure rapture.